*feel free to ignore the majority of this; anything 'important' will be right before the story header anyways-the rest is just me mindlessly ranting*
-.-.-.-
Okay, so, seeing as how I am the queen of dragging out story projects over the course of YEARS-my little sister challenged me to finally buckle down and write a one shot. I realize this hardly sounds like a dilemma, buuut pretty much every 'one shot' I've ever written became a full-blown, drawn out plot line.
HOWEVER; I think I've finally done it
SACRE BLEU!
It's only taken me my whole life...
...aaannnd I'm still cheating a little bit, because i'll be posting this in several parts
(mostly because I'm impatient and suffering writers block; aka terrible, unforgivable boredom.)
ANYWHO; yes,
JackRabbit is my guilty-i'm-definitely-twenty-one-years-and-getting-too-old-for-this-pleasure.
Dreamworks is TOTALLY to blame though!
Because I went to see ROTG wholesomely, with NO shipping expectations...and I'm sitting in the theater with my little 3D glasses, next to my mom and sister, losing my shit ten minutes in like:
"WTF, Giant Rabbits, Dead Kids, and Sexual Tension!? IS ANYONE ELSE SEEING THIS!?"
Haha, talk about an awkward conversation to initiate. Although, now that I've dealt with the initial shame and subsequent questioning of myself as a human being (hahah); I've come to terms with it all.
It's my ship. And I'm going down with it.
GOOD; any who; sorry; no one cares about any of that.
-.-.-.-
***MISC. INFORMATION ABOUT THIS FIC***
-It's a New Years fic, even though I ABHOR New Years; and it takes place kind of '500 Hundred Days of Summer' like, jumping through the time frame. So all the scenes are divided between the designations of time, obviously, that will appear as so: |2:40 PM| Basically, I go through the entire day, chopping it into individual scene segments-the segments will occur chronologically though; no skipping backwards and forwards at random, or any of that jazz. The first part is everything up until around midnight, and the second is everything after that. (good, very descriptive...)
-Since I mentioned the format of this story is all spliced up, keep this in mind when you come across choppier scenes, or when scenes end on random notes-this is purely to accomplish the task of stringing together a story in fast-forward and little to no prelude/and/or/room for major plot development. (cause i'll write forever if i start planning too many things in depth)
-Oh yes, the point of 'New Years' is since its supposedly to 'celebrate new beginnings' blahblah, that it's the one day of the year where Tooth and Bunny inhabit their human forms for the night. And the rest is inferable lol.
-There will be 'alcohol' in the story-so yes, everybody is drinking. I apologize if it's not your scene, but I enjoy putting a more mature spin in terms of certain behavioral contexts, etc., etc.,
-There will also be sexual activity present in this fic; I'm not positive how detailed yet; if I had to guess I'd say tastefully descriptive, and more than enough attention to the important details lol. Don't go expecting me to go all Fifty-Shades though-I don't touch plotless, twilight soft-core pornos for bored housewives...although I realize now, how sad this statement is when I stop to think about what I'M actually posting bahaha. oops. teehee.
-And yeah, that's all I can think of. Basically I either reread this and LOVE it, or hate it, and proceed to knit-pick and destroy multiply drafts. Promising, no? lol, however, go easy on me, I'm knew to this one shot business, and writing for this pairing.
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okay; that's all folks!
Read. Enjoy [Or Hate]. Review.
But mostly, please review :)
I respond to all comments; either in PM'S or following posts
&& I also have a RV-4-RV policy; where basically, if you leave me a comment, I'll return the favor, and review one of your stories.
**if you'd like me to do this, however, PLEASE SPECIFY IN YOUR POST, as well as including any particular suggestions for stories you want reviews for**
Done. For Real.
-.-.-.-
A One Shot | Part I of II
-IX-
-VII- When The Clock Strikes Twelve -V-
-IV-
|9:50 AM|
Jack rose groggily from his slumber, glancing around at the rude awakening of the time, followed by the mental memo that he had somewhere to be at 10:30—processing only that far before happening to catch the date posted on the calendar across the room in bold, black, Times New Roman.
"Ugh."
He released an unflattering, and equally disgusted noise of protest— as if to prove something to the lifeless sheet of paper he was now engaging in a disoriented, mid-morning staring contest with.
Just give it up already, he thought aggravated…
…Everyone was always claiming it was 'soo magical.' That the way you spent New Years was the way you'd spend the next year of your life. That it was the precedent from which the rest was set. The idiotic ideology that he'd been watching for a lifetime—the response projecting in all the cliché' life-styled dramas, and in all the starry-eyed teens he'd followed over the years from party to party. Watching as generation after generation threw all bets off for a single night of unpredictable happenstance.
Jack rolled his eyes inwardly, as if those are promising odds…
All that ever changed were the fashion statements and the substance abuse— the rest remained static and cyclical; but admittably, Jack had been fascinated at first. Never understanding why they threw away their hopes and dreams and deepest secrets to the disappointment. And then relived it annually. He himself had lost countless years to the tragic study of cause and effect—eventually allowing the lot of it to morph his fascination into a deep, state of detest for the festivities, refusing to take part in them at all.
Which was the problem with waking up with December 31st circled several times in blue, sharpie snowflakes…
This year. He was one of them.
One of those people…
Considering the absurdity of the notion, Jack finally disengaged, falling back into the mess of blankets. "ThisIsn'tHappening," came a deep, muffled groan from beneath whichever pillow he was currently smothering himself with; attempting, in vain, to suffocate the one, particular sequence he'd been cooking up for months now…
The simple, self-confirmation that he had taken to New Years like a junkie takes to needles; injecting himself thoughtlessly with this life-threatening disease, instantly developing an insatiable habit for the most heart-breaking addiction…For seeking solace in the altered perceptions—for falling victim to the simple misconception that any of it was real.
IT.
Was about six feet tall—
Australian—
"And never going to happen," he glared inwardly in conclusion.
|10:45 AM|
Jack locked eyes with the doors to North's Globe Room—where all the other Guardians were waiting for his oh-so-characteristic, late arrival.
Deep breath.
"Well," he inhaled while blue eyes closed, aligning his palms with the double doors, "it's all down hill from here…"
|11:00 AM|
"So..." Jack rocked back on his heals provokingly, "…New Years…"
"It's not that big a' deal," the Australian insisted ineffectually, shooting Jack a forewarning glance that only seemed to entice the winter sprite.
"Not a big deal?" he echoed, leaning into his staff with a self-knowing smirk, "Did you forget what today is, Bunny?"
"Oh, Bunnymund does not forget this day," North interjected lightheartedly, "just like Easter—he is always making way bigger deal of than really is."
Taking a defensive hop forward, the Pooka narrowed his eyes, "Whoa now, Mate. New Years is no Easter."
"You are right, my friend," the rotund, red-clad belly shook with laughter, "more people celebrate it."
Although disappointed that the conversation between them had been stolen, Jack couldn't help but grin at the ensuing antics; watching amusedly as emerald eyes narrowed and pierced.
"Too far," Bunny glared, unappreciative of North making this even more insufferable than it already was.
Standing a few centimeters behind him, Sandy nodded in agreement, while a set of perpendicular lines materialized overhead in segments of amber dream sand. Followed shortly by Tooth, who proceeded to swoop down between the confrontation in order to act as the voice of reason.
"Enough! " She silenced any further protest, reprimanding them like a disappointed parent. "Sandy's right. That crossed the line," Tooth affirmed, looking back and forth sternly from one guardian to the next as they glanced up, at each other, and away. "North, apologize. Aster, relax."
"Don't tell me to relax," Bunny fussed unreceptively, matched by the larger man's shoulders dropping with a deflated sigh, "Is absolutely necessary, Tooth?"
However, the keeper of memories simply hovered as silently as Sandy, with an even expression across her features, and her hands propped against her hips in an air of maternal authority.
At the sight of the infamous combination, right away both of them knew better than to try and argue their way out of her terms.
"I am sorry," North sighed. "You are right, Bunnymund, New Years is no Easter."
Bunny nodded in approval, unable to accept the apology verbally when he knew all too well he'd only wind up compromising the peace with some kind of backhanded slight.
"Well," Jack exclaimed awkwardly, falling into the stages of intoxication, and untangling from his staff, "I'm excited."
The Australian rolled his eyes. "You would be excited over the biggest joke of a holiday, Frost."
"Oh, it's not New Years that I'm excited for," an impish grin unfolded.
"No idea what ya' even talkin' about, mate," the other feigned ignorance, refusing to rise to the bait.
"He means you Bunnymund," North clarified obliviously, "Jack is excited for midnight. To see."
"Thank you, North," Jack nodded, causing the jovial elder to smile proudly before the sprite continued to plague Bunny relentlessly, "I wouldn't miss this countdown for the world."
Another warning glance shot from green eyes into blue, "Well you have fun with that."
"To midnight," Jack specified out of spite, "and you know what that means, don't you?"
His ears flattened, and Bunny sank back into his heals. "Don't say it…"
"Naked-Skin!" Jack shouted excitedly, throwing both arms above his head in a burst of smiles and laughter.
"Why do you have to call it that?" Aster asked, shaking his head embarrassedly. "Of all the things," he stressed, "why did it have to be that?"
"Because you're not gonna have any fur, stupid."
The other grumbled, "Doesn't mean I'll be naked."
"Tomato, Tamahto," Jack shrugged. "Either way, it's going to be one for the books."
"For cryin' out loud!" Both paws flung forward dramatically, "I don't turn into the batman, frostbite. I don't see why ya' gotta keep talkin' it up like this."
"Because it is big deal!" North insisted.
"Yeah," Jack agreed, grinning, before countering the indirect tactics that Bunny had made painfully evident. "So why are you trying to avoid the subject, mister?"
"I'm not," the rabbit rebutted insincerely, running out of plausible excuses, "I just don't want ya to be disappointed when ya realize it's nothin' special."
Toothiana giggled, grinning a coy, girly smile. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."
"Not helping," Aster shot her an ungrateful glance.
"Sorry, just saying," she continued to stare knowingly, rising and falling diagonally through the space, "I just remember the first time that I saw the E. Aster behind the Bunnymund."
"How could we forget," North erupted with hearty laughter. "Poor Bunny made my poinsettias run for their money," the bearded man chuckled, misplacing the context of the expression like he was always doing, completely unaware, as he nudged the Pooka, "Didn't you old friend?"
"Oh really?" Jack inquired. "So much for nothing special, cottontail."
"Don't call me that," Aster's head snapped from Jack back to North—from one direction to the other—trying to keep up with the onslaught of opinions prying into his personal life. "And I did no such thing."
"Oh, yes, you did!" the other insisted—watery, wild-flower blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
Hopping back and forth unsettlingly, Bunnymund tried in vain to occupy the space, but constantly found himself being pulled in every direction by another retort.
"Yeah, why so modest?" A set of equally transfixing irises encased him fixedly. "Sounds to me like you make quite the impression."
"Honestly guys," his usually confident vocals were faltering beneath the lack of conviction, "you're blowin' it outta proportion—I mean it—I look just as normal as any of you."
Sandy was somewhere off to the side, falsifying this with a declining, shake of the head, catching Jack's gaze long enough to gesture to the double thumbs-up flashing in and out of focus.
"Hey! I saw that little man!" Green eyes grew wide, and shot towards Sandy, who merely replaced the imagery with a widespread smiley-face.
Another giggle escaped Tooth, and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth just to contain them, receiving another pleading look from her fellow friend, and guardian. "Sorry!" she insisted, although remained completely unable to suppress the angle in her smile. "Really! I'm done!"
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna take my chances hopsa-lot, " Jack nodded affirmatively. "No way an Easter kangaroo looks anything like a normal human."
"Well, it's a good thing I'm a bunny," Aster corrected forcefully.
The younger immortal ignored him with an ever-expanding smile, "not for long," he winked.
"Whatever." The cavalier timing was met with dismissal, unable to mask the resentment as he turned away from the group. "I'll have the place ready by nine…Jack…feel free to stay home…everybody else, you know where to find me."
|8:33 PM|
Jack stared as if Tooth was holding some foreign object in her hands. "Shoes?" he asked confusedly, scratching the lock of hair behind his ear.
"Yeah," Tooth sighed, "I didn't think so," placing them somewhere off to the side as she sat Jack down in front of a large vanity mirror.
|8:35 PM|
The scenes projecting through Jack's subconscious from earlier flickered away as the memory reel ran out of film, forcing his attention back towards the twenty-five minutes that separated him from his single, biggest fear.
Rejection.
"You don't really think he wont let me in, do you?" he asked Tooth uneasily, recalling the multiple times he'd threatened not to.
"Oh, of course not," she waved a dainty, dismissive hand, hovering around from behind, and fussing with Jack's hair. "Bunny always gets a little too…sensitive around this time of year," she concluded, for a lack of better ways to explain, "You can't take it personally."
"A little?" Jack exclaimed, catching a glimpse of Sandy in the mirror, replacing Tooth's understatement with an atomic explosion of dream sand that followed the outlines of big, floppy ears.
As always, even in the absence of sound, the bringer of dreams was silently outspoken—unfailing in the accuracy of imagery that spoke louder than any of them ever could with a voice.
It seemed to Jack that the simplest truths were the one's that went without saying—and perhaps that was why Sandy had mastered it flawlessly, while he himself could hardly survive the crash-course; constantly colliding head first into brick walls whenever his stupid, impulsive mouth shot him straight forward into dead-ends.
Sighing heavily, he felt a nervous pressure pulsate in his chest. He couldn't even help it. He hated it with every bone in his body—and yet he'd waited for this day like most kids wait for Christmas—tearing pages from the calendar eagerly like the red and green links on a construction paper chain. It was constantly getting closer, but always so far away. And the immortal had grown restless.
Up until recently, he'd personally never cared much for New Years; however, a certain force of nature had persuaded him to reconsider-not that he'd ever share this information aloud or willingly of course. To be frank, ever since Jack discovered that it was the one day of the year where Tooth and Bunny embodied their human forms, it became all he could think about.
Allowing E. Aster to steal his thoughts effortlessly.
A small, childlike frown encased the internal expression; sick to his stomach with how much time he'd lost to the daydreams—to the mental portraits, and to the unexplainable desire to see the man behind guardian. Saddened that it was something that held no reciprocation.
A small set of hands rested on his shoulders and Tooth slowed her wings into a steady hover. "I'm serious, don't take it personally, Jack," she observed the boy's declining facial features, "it's not your fault—he's never liked the attention."
And this time Sandy agreed, giving Jack cause to drag the idea deeper into focus, over-speculating this uncharacteristic lack of confidence. "I just don't see how that can possibly be true," the youth said into the reflective surface, watching the lack of understanding dilate vacantly, and eclipse the alternating shades of blue. "I'm the one he doesn't want there," he exhaled, feeling isolated, and just a little misplaced, "Notice how he didn't tell either of you not to show up."
Glancing around undecidedly, the avoidance in the lack of eye contact was evidence enough that she was searching for some surefire way to counteract what was already so painstakingly set in stone.
"We've just known him longer," she stated, "and well—well you know how you get under his skin, Jack."
The boy shrugged, "Yeah, but he knows I'm only messing with him."
"Does he though?" she challenged, not unkindly, but the directness of her words collided with the lack of hesitation that wasn't present in the previous responses, causing his stomach to twist.
"Well yeah," Jack shifted, unsure of how to justify something he really didn't know. "Why wouldn't he?"
Tooth's lack of answers, however, was replaced with Sandy's inexhaustible cache of observations. Taping Jack lightly on the shoulder, he pointed above his head to where a disheveled bed frame sat above a thought bubble; within which flashed smaller images of a staff, a question mark, and a rabbit—over and over in that same order.
Tooth reached forward. "Sandy, shhh! It's none of our business," she warned him, as if it would force Jack to omit the following visuals from memory.
A few months ago it may have actually worked too, but a few months ago, Jack would've been able to translate the cryptic meanings no better than North could keep figures of speech straight; but it caught him pleasantly by surprise how quickly he understood.
The important part was remembering that nothing about the sequence was random—from the pictures to their placement—every element was imperative. For instance—the bed meant Pitch—and Pitch meant fear, and since it floated above the rest, that meant it was 'a fear' over 'a thought'.
Next, focusing in on the remaining hieroglyphs, Jack knew the flashbulbs of pictures within the cloud-like silhouette were meant to signify a combination of ideas into an equation—an equation between Jack and Bunnymund in which the value of the joining variable was missing…
"He's afraid of… what I'll think of him?" Jack asked perplexedly, connecting the dots, but finding no bigger picture coming into focus.
This time, however, Sandy was less forthcoming, withdrawing, and exchanging hesitant, slightly guilty glances with Tooth.
"What?" Jack complained.
"It's nothing," she smiled, fanning out one, last section of ghost-like hair before straightening the crooked, jet black tie that had taken him over an hour to even figure out, fussing impatiently as Tooth licked her finger and rubbed away at the smudge on his forehead.
All this coddling was making him feel so small and sheltered though, so young and inadequate that he couldn't help but pull away with his arms crossed, pouting. "You guys never tell me anything."
"C'mon, it's ten-till." Amethyst eyes rose to check the clock on the wall after a Sandy pointed to his wrist. "You don't want to keep him waiting, do you?"
"He's probably already ecstatic that I'm not already there," Jack spoke dismissively.
"Well you'll never know if you don't stop thinking about it and go see for yourself, will you?"
He knew she was right, and Jack's shoulders dropped dejectedly with a labored sigh, checking himself over in the mirror when he found his confidences dwindling. He should've felt like a million bucks—but instead found himself adjusting awkwardly to the layers of dress clothes. The combination had been simple—a royal blue button-up, and the standard black suit and tie—and yet, the weight was unfamiliar, and left Jack feeling imbalanced.
Self-conscious.
So, totally, out of his element.
"Maybe Bunnymund's not the only one who's a little nervous," she observed softly, like a parent trying to point out something so painfully obvious to someone with more experience, "but there's nothing to worry about."
Shrinking into himself, offset by how easily she'd exposed his feelings, Jack breathed in with effort, took one last look, shook his head as if to misplace the reflection, and exhaled unconfidently, "If you say so."
|9:15 PM|
By the time they'd reached Bunny's warren, North's sleigh was already parked on the far side of the lush greenery—covered in curious egglets. Immediately, the scents of spring filled Jack's nostrils, asphyxiating his sensory, and convoluting his brain.
"I can't do this," he turned around abruptly, halfway down the cobble stone path, "I look stupid, this was stupid, coming here was stupid."
However, after an entire flight of listening to similar, empty statements, neither Tooth nor Sandy gave in—refusing to quell the unnecessary outbursts, and taking Jack by the arms, dragging him the rest of the way, despite his constant objections.
"Inconsiderately late, as usual," Aster appeared out of nowhere, hopping up to the trio—eyes drawn down to one in particular.
Jack met the indistinguishable eyes fixed over him, but failed to uphold the contact for more than a moment before swallowing. Averting his own to the ground, trying to look enamored with the dozens of little egglets scurrying beneath his feet.
"How did you know we were here?" Tooth asked surprised, fluttering into a friendly embrace.
"Are ya kiddin'?" A pair of long, thin, grayish ears flinched and folded over in Jack's direction. "You can hear frostbite complaining from a mile away," Bunny rolled his eyes, but there was more humor in his voice than spite this time.
"Hah-hah," Jack retorted evenly, "And for your information, I wasn't complaining from a mile away."
"No, just tha last fifteen feet," Bunny straightened out, stopping to look back over his shoulder in amusement, having already heard every word.
Catching up with the distance Aster had put between them, Jack chose to abandon his shyness, and secure the lead instead, stepping a few feet ahead. "Awe, have you been waiting for me?"
Emerald eyes narrowed around the self-satisfied glance shot in passing, proceeding to follow, "Didn't wanna give ya the element of surprise is all."
"Why not?" Jack pulled his shoulders into his ears with an unaffected shrug, eyes falling over the length of the other in his usual form, "It's not like there's anything to look at yet."
"If you're expectin' me ta feel bad about that—think again, mate," a colder tone met the even colder auditory canals of the winter reincarnate, unaware that Jack had anything ulterior up his sleeve. "Not all of us like to showcase our personal lives so carelessly."
"That's right," a pale, slender neck slipped into a steady nod, his fingers shuffling into pants pockets. "I forgot, you only like to hide things."
|9:25 PM|
If Bunnymund said anything else, Jack was already too far ahead to have heard—knowing he was bound to lose that round too if he stuck around long enough to let his big, stupid mouth open again.
That was always the trouble wasn't it? Jack thought absently. He was fast, but Bunny was faster—always thrown into this simultaneous blur of wit and motion—this race against the clock—and although Jack was quick enough to ensue the chase, he knew full well that Bunnymund had the stamina to run circles around him. And he did.
All the banter, and all the slights.
All the chasing, and the running, and the picking fights…
It's exhausting, Jack sighed to himself, pausing in the dimly lit entryway, knowing that if he had no more than these next few seconds alone, that he needed to use them wisely. Stopping in order to collect and maintain his composure, the reincarnate breathed in deeply, trying to mentally prepare before rendering himself defenselessly to chance.
"It's just New Years," he told himself, fussing over his hair, shaking it back out of place, and into its playfully messy tousle. "It comes every year," he continued to prompt, and then repeat the blatant contradictory phrases aloud in order to instill their validity. "This year is no different."
However, the inability to swallow something too bittersweet to sugarcoat, was forcing Jack's smooth, routine motions to grow choppy and disjoining. Frantically tucking and un-tucking his shirt undecidedly, he could feel himself derailing under the pretext of failing to lay down enough track.
Enough preplanning to coast along smoothly after a certain six-foot, mass of gray, blue, and white fur had uprooted all the terrain, and then swallowed it deep within a labyrinth of dead ends and darkness. The grounds on which Jack could not stand—the authority over the ebb and flow of his reality that the other secured without effort, and that'd he'd lost all sight of.
All meaning had escaped him since becoming a guardian—since he'd allowed the other's beyond the wall he'd spent a lifetime building up around him like a barricade. Since he'd realized seconds too late that one, E. Aster Bunnymund, had slipped beneath it before anyone else could even get half way up the side.
Jack couldn't explain it, but somehow he always felt so exposed around his friendly adversary—like no matter how visible he was on the surface—that the other always saw right through him.
This backwards, mind-fuck-of-a-way that he could read Jack like a book without caring enough to flip through the pages first. This eerie, unexplainable way of occupying every chamber of his thoughts, without ever noticing the boy long enough for Jack's to become one of his.
It doesn't even make sense, Jack scolded his stupidity, and less than objective analysis, realizing that it never would. Anything and everything between them was both complicated, and perfectly clear—creating the worst kind of balance—the kind that couldn't be tipped.
From one extreme to the next, they'd forged all middle ground; and every thought had been over speculated, and soon after lost the importance of becoming a decision. Everything was so balanced that it was backwards, and within the span of a single year—the last person he'd ever expected to effect him—his confidence—his potential—or his ability to survive on his own—had gotten closer to him than anyone else in this lifetime was ever able.
Ironically enough, E. Aster Bunnymund had ridden out the Blizzard of '68—only to walk right back into Jack's life, unscathed, and change everything.
The thought made it hard to breathe, and there was a space in his chest that had begun to lag after a certain point. After the centripetal palpitations had exhausted the once, involuntary reflex of breathing into a painfully forced motion—devoid of any feeling.
An empty space he'd never known was there—an empty space he needed now, more than ever, to fill…
To know…
"For the hundredth time, Jack, you look fine." The sound of Tooth froze him immediately, stiffening his posture, and paralyzing his thoughts. "Honestly," she flew forward to fix his hair—like this was a school dance, and he was waiting nervously for his date to be dropped off—smiling at the sight of her baby all grown up. "Here," she pivoted him towards the full-length mirror, it was nearly seven feet high, and imbedded in the trunk of a tree that grew through the house. "See? Look how handsome you look."
Ungodly embarrassed, Jack's cheeks began to flood with frozen shades of blue, crystallizing the embarrassment noticeably across the bridge of his nose.
"Doesn't he look handsome?" She turned to the other two, leaving them no more than a five second window to respond, "Bunny, tell Jack he looks nice."
The pallor boy's eyes shot open. "No!" He exclaimed, sucking in a sharp gust of air after catching a glimpse of Aster in the reflection—head cocked to the side—eyes momentarily falling over the length of his body before the sprite's shrill reverberation of protest broke his focus, and forced his gaze to find its way into Jack's.
The Pooka's head was still at a slight angle, but his eyebrows rose as he drew closer, towering over the other. "Relax, mate," Bunny peered down, "I don't bite," he spoke calmly, instinctively unable to stand the sight of snow beginning to form over the pale head of hair.
Then the elder's voice started to drop almost inaudibly, and the soft sensation of fur curved over Jack's shoulder. Simultaneously, seeing this as some sort of sign, Sandy began pushing Tooth quietly out the door, ushering them both away from a moment that they weren't meant to share.
Which, to be honest, only made the immortal's heart pound, and his knees buckle, and the snow to fall faster.
"Don't be so embarrassed," a reassuring voice whispered, while Bunny dusted the flakes from his hair and clothing, knowing all too well how much the younger boy despised how easily his one true, ability betrayed him. "You're going to bury yourself."
"What's it to you?" Jack pulled away, flinching at the soft-spoken sounds, and the unusually personal shift in contact.
"Nothin' really," the other shrugged, "you can do as ya' please. Jus sayin'... it might be a shame since she's right," Aster offered, taking one last, casual glance, "You clean up pretty good, frostbite."
|9:47 PM|
Unable to retrace any conceivable memory of how he'd ever found his feet to follow Bunny in the first place, the next time Jack came out of the surreal, dream-like motion—North was crushing him in a bear hug.
"Look at you!" he exclaimed, setting the winter sprite back on the ground with a hearty slap, "No more capris!"
Bunnymund snorted, so unexpectedly that he spit back out a mouthful of scotch.
"See?" North pointed back, misinterpreting the reaction, "Even bunny notices—must be looking pretty sharp, no?"
"Heh," Jack released a nervous laugh, wanting nothing more than to apologize profusely to Bunny now for putting him through a similar hell earlier that morning, burning up under the spotlight of everyone observing his person.
Aster only seemed to read his mind though, whispering in passing as the teen slipped across the room, "Not so funny anymore, is it, big shot?"
"No," Jack sighed, lulled into a temporary bought of normalcy, "You have my sincerest apologies."
"Whoa-whoa-wait a tick," Bunnymund interjected, "And just what do you think you're doing?"
Jack's hand retracted from the rather impressive assortment of percentages and proofs. "Really?" he asked with wide eyes, and then an even stare, "You're going to pull this on today of all days?"
"Well, jus cause ya throw on a suit and tie doesn't mean ya can jus walk into tha bar, mate." Bunny began to speak in misplaced metaphors, stiffening undecidedly, and feeling just a little sad on the inside—but he'd never let any of them see that—not for what it was—continuing to surround Jack like an after school special instead.
"Oh, lighten up, Bunnymund, do not murder the party," North tsk'd, swishing his own glass of clear liquid around in his hand. "Let him have a drink, today is celebration—not random day at two in the afternoon," he rationalized, "that is when you can start to worry. He just wants to have good time is all."
"Yeah, Bunny," Jack chorused, drawing his vocals into a whiney pout, "I just wanna have a little fun."
"Okay, first of all," Bunnymund gestured from North back to himself, "It's my party—and I'll kill it if I want to. And yes, I just said that. Second of all," he pivoted to the left, "That was maybe the creepiest thing you have ever said to me…so please…never do it again."
"Sooo…." Jack trailed off, leaning into his staff, "about that whole drinking thing…"
"Why do you need a drink?" Bunny demanded authoritatively, "I don't need you puking up slush all over my warren on some guardians gone wild bullshit," his eyes narrowed skeptically with the unusual curse. "I mean, have you ever even been drunk before?"
"Bunny," Jack stated calmly, like the moment before you explain to your parents that you haven't been six for like twelve years now. "I've been eighteen for over three hundred years, and I'm invisible…was that really even a question?"
"Fine, here," lanky ears perked back up, but the pale teen wasn't sure what it meant when Aster stood at his full height, shoving the glass into Jack's hand, "if you're so experienced, take it," he said with a little snap. "But don't come cryin' to me when you start getting' all sick, ya hear?"
Rather than lash back, Jack drew the glass up to a devilish smirk. "Cheers," he nodded, swallowing the scotch in two, smooth motions. Pulling his lips away slowly, he released a satisfied breath, causing the other to stare back in blank fascination as he handed back the empty glass with a grin, "Hope you like carrots."
|10:35 PM|
The music was just loud enough that the base was causing the floor to hum softly beneath the added pressure of North's tumultuous footsteps. No one had secured completely stable levels—and everyone was their own shade of drunk. Jack, himself, seeking solace in the baby sips of scotch, like little shots of liquid courage, and more than worth the burn, he thought, draining the contents of the glass, and polishing off his second helping as quickly as any eighteen year old would. Leaving no room for moderation.
Thank MiM for cultural differences, he sighed in relief—highly appreciative of the Russian for encouraging him to engage with them like adults; especially after Bunnymund had never made him feel more like a child. A small, unknowing, fragile little thing, whose lack of experience prevented him from making informed decisions.
It was true that he wasn't "legally" of the age; but age is just a number, he thought as his lips pulled upward, savoring the burning sensation that swelled in his stomach—radiating an unprecedented warmth throughout his limbs, and causing just the slightest tingle. Almost numbing, but it felt good, like friction casting sparks, little flares of warmth...He liked the warmth—the tangibility—the heated sensations that melted the restraints of propensity and preposition from his joints—freeing him of his shackles—from the frozen tundra that was his life—the world that suddenly felt so sad, and lonely in comparison to a place like this.
He wanted it. That sense of completion.
The magnetism seemed misplaced, contradicting almost everything he stood for, but opposites had never stopped attracting for Jack—and neither had the allure of such an innocent desire to experience the things in life that never came as easy naturally. So he drown himself in everything he wasn't, and hoped that no one else would notice he'd gone overboard; allowing him to sink deep into the heart of darkness—silently and undetected—almost frozen. Always interchanging and trading its form, in many ways, heat was a lot like coldness. In moderation it was tolerable, and almost pleasant; but in excess, both were overwhelming. Whether it was below zero, or breaking a hundred, if you got too close to either degree of extreme—they burned.
They were opposites that conjoined to create a sense of equality as a whole, a sort of elemental equilibrium, like frostbite and blisters—freezer burn and heat rashes—producing an indiscernibly balanced sensation in which fire and ice have lost designation—it set in skin deep and then sank into your stomach—just like the alcohol was doing now. Taking him over. Consuming him. Overpowering his inhibitions, and poisoning him so peacefully that Jack confused drowning with floating, sinking slowly as he lapped in the shallow pools of the dark, and strangely calming elixir.
Effective almost immediately, the dissolution of forty-proof into his blood stream was triggering a fast-forward metamorphosis that matured Jack's audacity on contact; and before his brain could register the action, he was walking up to Bunny with his confidence in full strut.
"Why aren't you dancing?" A soft, curious expression emitted the ghost-haired youth, providing inference as baby-blue orbs strayed to the side, over to where Sandy was twirling Tooth in circles, and North's boots stomped crudely with the sounds, hollering as he slapped his knee.
"'Cause I don't dance," Aster summarized, staring at his half-empty glass, and stirring the substance disinterestedly.
He took a step closer, "Sorry, but that answers already been taken by the rest of the world," his eyes rolled playfully. "Seriously, if you asked a room full of people that same question, most of them would give that same answer." Jack's vocals dropped coaxingly, "Are you going to try and tell me that E. Aster Bunnymund is most people?"
"What kinda' angle you workin' frostbite?" The elder's eyebrow rose, and emerald stained irises refocused speculatively.
"No angle," soft strands shook as Jack's head moved slowly in either direction, "just an observation."
"And what, pray tell, was so persuasive about my not dancing that you felt the need to turn my peace and quiet into twenty questions?" Bunny asked, propping both his arms against his waist, leaning forward, "Huh?"
Jack peered up innocently, "…it's just that you're not having any fun, that's all."
Eyebrows furrowed unconvinced, and hesitation caused Bunny to accept another sip of scotch before accepting Jack's answer. "It's my party," he shrugged, "playing host means I have to keep my wits about me; and besides, what concern is it of yours whether or not I enjoy myself?"
"Seriously?" Jack waited for Bunny to catch up, gesturing noticeably to himself, "Guardian of Fun?" he prompted. "It's kind of my thing, remember?"
"Well it's a' holiday," Aster widened his eyes sarcastically. "Take the night off."
"Oh, no, no," the older male's dismissal was met with a condescending smirk, "unlike you tie-a-bow-ben-bunny, my work's never done." Blue eyes met the other's heightened gaze tauntingly, "Not all of us go out of season, y'know."
"Easy there snowstorm, don't get yourself all riled up," Bunny warned, "'Cause it isn't gonna' work." Another sip and a substantiating nod, "No matter how many scattered flurries you toss around."
"Well why not!" the youth exhaled, crossing his arms in a stubborn, and undeniably adorable pout.
Emerald eyes readjusted, tapering off at the sight of colorless lips pursing unfamiliarly and flushed, almost flesh colored where they pressed together in displeasure.
"I already told ya', Frost, I don't dance," Bunny reiterated after his focus was overthrown by a lack of expectancy. "I can't dance," he rephrased, discrediting all conviction as his body language started slipping uncertainly in slightly offset shifts the longer he looked.
"Well I find that very hard to believe," Jack reached up, never pausing to process hesitation, rubbing the soft gray and white fur between his thumb and forefinger. "With ears like these?" he glanced up, releasing one of Bunny's, "there's no way that you can't follow a beat."
The contact thickened the alcohol in Bunnymund's stomach, making it feel heavy and nauseating, and hard to play off when the perpetually determined sprite continued to pull at him, gathering up rolls of fur between the small spaces in his fingers.
"I can follow it quite fine," he cleared his throat, taking a sip immediately because it felt so dry and ready to crack; unnerved when it was his last. "It's the whole moving 'with it' that I'm no good at," Aster clarified, turning to discard the empty glass, "and I'm not nearly drunk enough to start trying."
Jack reached forward gingerly, baby blue-eyes watching the lengths of his arms as they moved to the sides of Bunny's. "Now I know you're not telling innocent, little, old me that you can't dance unless you have alcohol," he prompted, engaging the mirroring glance— meeting green eyes the moment his palms flattened along the elder's tattooed biceps, loosely enveloping their circumferences, "because then that wholesome, example you set for me would all be for nothing, and honestly, what kind of guardian would y—."
"—I caught the drift," the other interrupted, shimmying his shoulders to release himself from the teen's grip. "But I'm not running your little guilt trip anywhere but into the ground, got that?"
"How can you catch something that I never threw?" Jack asked, continuing to taunt and tease, ignoring the other's shakes and shoves to let his hands slide down the bent, slopes of fur until they secured to the other's wrists like several strings. "Because if you're seeing things Bunny, then a breathalyzer might be in order," the boy teased. "Unless you cooperate," he offered, moving the limp appendages in jaunty, lighthearted motions, "In that case, I think maybe I can make an exception."
"All this coming from barely-legal?" Aster's head tipped downward, motioning to Jack with disbelief, "You should be grateful I'm still lettin' you piss away my best scotch, cumulonimbus."
"How many times have I told you," Jack insisted, shaking his head, " 'cumulonimbus', does not work for a nickname," he said disapprovingly, pulling down lightly on Bunny's forearms.
Forcing his weight to shift forward, the boy's words put Aster on his toes, tipping the force of balance when gravity challenged it. "Stop changing the subject," he scolded, initiating another incomplete attempt to take back his arms.
"Stop fighting the music!" Jack threw back in his face with a laugh, pushing Bunny's wrists forward this time, rocking the other's body back and forth with his own.
"Frost!"
"Bunny," he repeated, gathering up his shoulders in anticipation, rolling them into a shimmy, "C'mon, you know you wannaaa."
"Don't," Aster warned, watching the other winding up; trapped in the corner as he tried to take a step back, but found the table preventing his escape. "I'm serious."
"C'mon, Bunny," Jack called to him as if he were dog, pumping their arms out of sync with the fast-pace rhythm, losing fluidity under the deadweight of uncooperative limbs hanging lifelessly in his grasp, "C'monnnn!"
This time, the other's face fell evenly, clearly unimpressed with Jack's shimmying, cocking to the side as it shook pitifully, "Oh no, mate."
"Oh, yes," the younger immortal corrected, putting more force into the pull forward than he had before, substituting the strength he couldn't meet his words with. "Dance with meee," Jack whined, giving no more than a second of pause, "you're the only one who wont."
"Really? And who else did you ask?" the other implored, gesturing towards their fellow guardians. "What about North?" he suggested, "Looks to me like you could be of better use to him than me right a' bout now."
"I don't want to dance with North," Jack stepped forward, forgetting himself as his lips lost reluctance, closing the space between them with a quizzical smirk, "Or are you too drunk to remember that it's you who I'm asking?"
"Oh, dance with him Bunny," Tooth twirled by, catching an earful of their conversation as Sandy followed with corresponding depictions of approval.
"Yes!" North joined in, taking a hearty swig, sloshing his glass around carelessly as he clapped along, "Dance because there is no tomorrow!"
Bunnymund rolled his eyes, not bothering to point out the correct phrasing, because he was too busy sinking down in defeat. "Fine," he exhaled gruffly, stomaching his pride as he readied his surrender, "One dance."
However, the rabbit had been moving so slowly that his over-active auditory canals had somehow missed the music beginning to soften in sync with his breathing, causing Jack to grin and Bunny to glare.
"Nice going," he mumbled down at the sprite, visibly discontent as the small, tentative hop brought him closer with a soft thump. Almost immediately, the selection faded from raw, throbbing base, and into tender, delicate intonations that made Bunny's ears flatten.
"Now, really, was that so hard?" Jack mused, feigning confidence as he stood on his tiptoes to reach the other's shoulders—heart beginning to beat skittishly as the winter reincarnate awaited the soft pressure of paws to return the gesture.
Reluctantly, Bunny followed the boy's initiative with stiff, uncomfortable movements. Hesitating forward with all eyes on him, he secured an undecided handhold, stopping somewhere way too high above Jack's hips, and almost half way up his waist.
"You're doing it all wrong," Tooth interjected, and the fleeting impressions disappeared when she flew forward and removed them from Jack's stomach.
The Pooka's shoulders lowered even further. "Come on," he complained, too out of his element to try and take his hands back from a second hijacker.
"You're not supposed to look like you'd rather kill yourself," she rationalized, glancing sternly between them as the sarcastic subtleties transpired behind prismatic, purple eyes and met Bunny's. "You're holding Jack, Aster—not Christmas," she pointed out softly, resting both paws against the slender, protruding slopes of hipbones, leaving them warily around the other's nervous waist. "And you're supposed to move with Bunny," the fairy pivoted to Jack with the restless beating of wings, "not leapfrog right over him," she insisted, prying up his fingertips from the warrior's broad, able shoulders.
Jack felt the wavering grip around his midsection grow more stable, easing his weight into their grasp as Tooth replaced his arms around Bunny's neck—forcing the Australian to support the other's body as it was pulled into his chest.
"Oh to hell with this," Bunnymund shook his head abruptly, untangling their proportions, and stepping back with both hands risen between their chests like a force-field, "too bloody complicated for one, stupid dance."
The immortal's face fell just enough for Sandy to catch the boy's unspoken disappointment with a frown. Choosing, even in his unfailing silence, not to state the obvious, he blocked Bunny's way with a simple, stern cross of the arms, and a soundless stare.
Still thumping and pounding irregularly, Jack could feel his heart continue to slam against his chest in nervous, shallow beats. The alcohol was a way to take his mind off the pressure, but the attention it'd drawn to them was unforgiveable. Asking Bunny to dance had been difficult enough, not to mention questionable, and now that everybody knew, it was becoming more and more prone to speculation. The up-close, invasive kind of scrutiny that they didn't have the time or the proximity for right now; and Jack almost gave up on trying to go through with it altogether before seeing Bunny's stomach go concave, dropping his upper body lifelessly into itself when there wasn't even dream sand there to argue with.
"…I hate New Years," Aster sighed, sucking in a sharp, deep breath of air before turning back to the younger boy.
Jack's hands traveled upward, slinking around the Pooka's neck as he pushed his toes against the floor again, pulling forward in a whisper, "it hates you too."
"This is embarrassing," Bunny mumbled under his breath, staring reflexively at the ground when the space between their chests shrank, stumbling closer after a gentle shove from Sandy sent both paws back to the other's hips with a self-deprecating sigh, "so ungodly embarrassing."
"No, mate," Jack shook his head, revealing a shy smile, and even shyer eyes that sparkled and pooled, "It's adorable."
|10:55 PM|
Bunnymund looked unsure of whether or not he wanted to smile, deciding to concentrate on their out of sync strides instead of their strained eye contact, or lack there of, tracing the motions of their feet falling clumsily off step in an uncoordinated shuffle.
"It's three steps," he offered suddenly, and unexpectedly—temporarily pressing the small of the other's back lightly with his paw. "One, two, three—turn," he pivoted, "one, two, three—turn."
Out of sheer surprise, Jack allowed his body to be pushed and prompted—tripping and stumbling as he watched their steps in attempts to follow Bunny's lead. They were stepping all over each other though, and although the alcohol provided the audacity to initiate—it lacked the security to uphold the contact. In his defense, Jack hadn't been counting on the slow song—or the radio to betray his initial subtleties—but it became instantaneously undeniable that the lessening proximity made the exchange seem more intimate than it really was.
Not that he minded.
In truth, his only objective had been to draw the other out of solitude—and so drawing the tall, bouffant chest of fur closer into his own was purely a bonus. Unexpected, but unavoidable. Once the other's had become involved and incited the interaction accordingly—they'd revoked any opportunity for either to get out of going through with it.
It started out so innocently—without double motive or even thought—just a shy, flustered endeavor that Jack thought was going nowhere right before it brought them chest to chest, leaving both guardians in unprecedented silence.
"Your feet are too big," the ghost-haired boy complained, growing insecure when their mouths refused to speak, and their feet continued to falter.
Bunny scowled, "Are not—you just can't follow," he insisted, staring fixedly at the uncoordinated movements as well.
"Follow?" Jack repeated, "Y'mean—the person who supposedly doesn't dance?"
"Oh, bite me," Bunny shook his head, pausing momentarily to note the increasing frustration collect and cloud in the boy's focus.
"No thanks," pale lips mumbled, too concentrated for sassy retorts. The song was almost over, and his heart was beginning to constrict at the thought that he'd wasted it.
Sighing, breathing in deeply with an almost parental release, Bunnymund paused, always so internally conflicted over the other boy's happiness. "C'mon now," he squeezed gently. "There's no use cryin' over spilled milk," the Australian soothed the worried looks, lifting Jack by the waist, just enough to ease his left foot beneath the smaller, shoeless one in front of it. "Better?" Bunny asked, repeating, shuffling Jack's feet on top of his own, "Don't worry, I'll take it from here, frostbite."
Curling inward, the winter sprite felt the soft brush of fur between his toes, and both hands slid down to the other's shoulders as he wobbled unsteadily. "You're sure I'm not too heavy?" Jack asked suddenly, adjusting self-consciously to find his footing when Bunny began taking baby steps.
"Oh yea," Aster grinned for the first time, "you're right," he nodded, slowly tucking his paws behind the small of the boy's back to keep him steady. "All ten ounces of you is killing me, we should probably switch it up."
"No," Jack stammered, his fingers involuntarily furrowing into the other's fur at the sight of withdraw.
A soft smile spread expansively across the elder's features, and his nose twitched with a knowing grin. "Shh, hush now," Bunny spoke gently, continuing to lift each foot slowly, easing into more graceful strides as he felt Jack's hands steady and lock around his neck, "See? I'm not going anywhere that you're not going."
"Is that a promise?" Jack smiled, his lips upturning genuinely as he watched their feet moving as one, locking one hand around his wrist, and leaning against the paw pressed into the curve of his back. "Or are you secretly just going to ignore me again afterwards?"
One paw retracted long enough to gesture, "Cross my heart and hope to die," Bunny grinned, completely taken with the adorable set of eyes widening hopefully across from him.
"Stick a needle in your eye!" Jack began to beam, the alcohol visibly flushing in warmer shades of blue across his face as he smiled with a mouthful of perfect teeth.
"Happy?" Bunny asked as the music began to drift in and out of focus, unable to suppress the instinctive impulse to nudge the mess of ghost-white hair affectionately with his nose, "Now you're stuck with me, Frost."
|11:32 PM|
There was less than half an hour left, and way less than half a bottle of scotch sitting on the table, surrounded by the vanishing levels of vodka that North had been nursing throughout the night.
"Silly, Bunnymund," the large man waved away concern like an incessant gnat, "There is no such thing as too much vodka when you are Russian, I can drink like fish, no problem."
"Yeah," Jack shook his head in unison, feeling at least three quarters drunker than he had before, "Silly, Bunnymund."
"Silly, Bunnymund?" Aster echoed, gesturing from himself, outwardly, towards the younger boy, "Try lookin' at yourself mister Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, cause I'd say Jack's drinking tolerance, is clearly worth shit!" he finished in sarcastic sing-song.
"You really wanna pull out the nursery rhythms and go Hans Christian Anderson on this one?" Jack leaned forward provokingly to accept the challenge. "Okay then little, bunny-foo-foo, hopping through the forest— halfway through the bottle, and you already start to wobble."
Pausing to absorb the counter attack with a lack of amusement, Bunny's face fell only long enough for him to hop forward stubbornly, and ensue the antics. "Little Jack Horror, sat in the corner, swallowing his stupid scotch," he began condescendingly, "he poured another glass, and fell straight on his ass, saying 'oh what an idiot am I!"
"Here comes Peter Cottontail—oh, but what an epic fail," Jack shouted back, "Wannabe, honestly, probably, possibly—the kangaroo failed to drink responsibly…"
North was standing only centimeters off to the side with a blank, drunken stare that kept widening with every word. "Just find the mistletoe and get over it," he belted out laughing, "you sound like old, married couple singing children's songs."
Both Guardians froze in mid-motion, Bunny with his mouth agape, closing rather quickly, as Jack's raised hand sank down by his side, rendering them both speechless.
Rather than fight it and provoke an aftershock of epic proportion, Aster chose to swallow and be the bigger person instead, knowing all too well that nights would be ruined, and feelings were bound to get hurt. " 'Suppose we both sound a little in tha' bottle," he cracked a smile, glancing from Jack to North, "but I'm waitin' for marriage, mate," Bunny waved off humorously, "so I'll have to pass on the mistletoe."
"Marriage?" Jack echoed loud and boisterously, "And exactly, how many other giant, lady kangaroos have you seen in the last century?" he asked sarcastically, "I must have missed that."
"Annnd," Bunny extended his vocals, "you ruined it…" he trailed off, rolling his eyes in sync.
"Oh sure, blame me for your badly told joke," the winter sprite summerized outlandishly, his speech patterns falling into the slightest slur as they exchanged dialogue playfully. "Cause that makes sense."
"You're really makin' me wanna break that promise, frostbite," the Pooka warned, looking up from the levels of scotch as he topped off his glass generously.
Jack handed Bunny his own in response, never phased by the flat, even look the action was received with because his drink was replenished regardless. "But then you'd have to stick a needle in your eye," Jack speculated pityingly, "and that would be messy."
Emerald eyes rolled, "It would be a lot more than messy smart ass."
"Language!" Tooth interrupted, scolding the onset of curse words, "I swear it isn't enough to ruin your teeth with that stuff, but you've all got to turn into truckers too!" she exclaimed, hovering busily from diagonal to diagonal.
Sandy chuckled soundlessly, pumping his arm in a fist as a disjoining horn appeared in dream sand, emitting flashes of sound.
"Sandy," she scolded, "you're slurring!"
"Yeah, easy on the dream sand lightweight," Aster tipped his head humorously, "don't drink and sign, Sandman."
The little golden man rolled his eyes lightheartedly, continuing to sip the spiked sand as he hovered at eyelevel in his cloud.
"Hey, Sandy's a champ," Jack stepped forward, resting his hand on the smaller guardian's shoulder, "You drink as much as you want," the boy doted.
"Do not drink too much friend," North prepared his toast with the proper balance of ice and vodka, "midnight is nearly upon us!"
The alcohol slid down Jack's throat with ease, waiting long enough for it to hit his stomach before cheering, and chanting at increasing volumes, "Naked-Skin! Naked-Skin!"
"Regular-skin, regular-skin," Bunny mimicked obnoxiously for effect, overriding the other's outburst. "Not naked. Fully clothed."
Jack rubbed his chin in thought, staring upward into space with mock deliberation, "Or so you say," his voice lingered doubtfully.
"I do," Aster repeated, nodding, and treating Jack as if he were a five year old, "I do say."
"Do say all you want," Tooth interrupted, lingering nervously in the space, her hardly alcoholic beverage occupying skittish fingers, "but unless you really do want to be naked, then you'd better do it in your room."
Bunny glanced up. "What?" he asked, eyes traveling to the egg-shaped clock carved into the wall immediately after the question fled his lips. "Oh crap," he hopped nervously—first to the table to pour a splash of scotch into his glass—then back between the guardians, glancing at Jack like a deer caught in headlights—wide eyed and terrified before shaking his head and proceeding towards the hall. "Well wish me luck," he flicked his paw, nodding to Tooth has the second hand struck 11:57, "Safe-changing T."
"You too!" she called out, fluttering downward in 'z' shaped incline before glancing hurriedly around for the small bag of clothing she'd brought along.
"Catch!" Jack shouted, tossing the object in her direction.
She secured it with relative ease and moderately low spillage, beating her wings rapidly as she buzzed towards the route Bunny had taken moments earlier, "See you guys in the New Year!" she sang excitedly, gripping the parcel to her chest as she disappeared.
|11:59 PM|
Their voices rose in unison, all except for Sandy who signed the countdown sloppily in slurs of amber colored sand, "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…"
"Happy New Years!" North broke off, thrusting his thick, burly arms into the air at the same time a barrage of two-toned confetti exploded above the sandman's head, floating down like a fading firework that dissolved against his shimmery silhouette.
"One whole year of guardianship down," Jack clanked their glasses in a celebratory shot, already drunk enough off the atmosphere, "and an eternity to go!"
"We do how they say and make life into work," North agreed, meaning more simply that their work became their life upon joining Mim's elite, mythical guardians.
Forming several hands overhead, Sandy displayed one palm facing upward as the other folded into a fist with the thumb extended vertically, making slight circular motions before bringing it down against the open hand beneath it.
Jack grinned, "Amen is right Zz-Man," he replied half-heartedly, eyes becoming distracted with the empty archway across the room—the mass of support beams and empty space that isolated them from the unveiling.
He was so excited that it was nearly bursting through his chest, nervous at the same time as his palms began to sweat, and his line of vision blurred in rapid, frantic movements between focal points. North noticed almost instantaneously, seeing Jack's anticipation like it was rising off his skin in clouds of steam, growing more bold with the addition of truth serum in his blood stream, "You are excited to see Bunnymund with out the Bunny," he proposed coaxingly, "just make sure to keep eyes in head my little golubchik, we do not need anyone stealing them."
Jack rolled his eyes as a pair of eyelash batting, googly ones came at him from Sandy's direction. "No one's stealing my eyes," he rationalized, even though he knew the precaution was figurative; growing less certain when he, himself, was half convinced he'd need a leash to keep them from falling out of their sockets in search of his unparalleled, New Year's resolution.
To try new things, his lips formed a mischievous smile that only darkened beneath his straying intentions—getting swept away in the sweet, dream-like motions of thought that framed the scenarios together so seamlessly that you'd swear it was canon.
God, he'd really lost it. He really had gone empty-headed—letting the smooth, flawless finish of perfectly circular spheres slip from his brain, and onto the floor with stunted clanks and deep, heavy bounces—misplacing his marbles as his mentality shrank, and reduced him into a mono-manic—completely obsessed with one, singular idea.
Bunny.
Human Bunny.
|12:05 AM|
Thumpthumpthump. The cardiac collisions in his breast began overlapping and outpacing each other, outsourcing the onset of anxiety with alcohol as pale lips sipped the concoction greedily, tapping his fingers in miscellaneous rhythms against the glass to keep himself busy. Thumpthumpthump.
*CreeeEEEEeeeaaak*
The thumps went slow and irregular, faltering from their fast-pace, and into barely detectable palpitations, pumping shallowly as Jack's ears twitched like Bunny's did at the faintest signs of life.
*CrEEEaaaAAAk*
Now he was hardly sure if his heart was beating slowly, or beating at all, holding his breath deep in his lungs as he listened to the sound waves crash more closely—their reverberating rings swallowing the distance in a ripple-effect of creaking and groaning—beginning to outpace his eardrums and overlap the echoes—bracing himself as the pitter-patter grew heavier against the hardwood floor.
Someone was coming.
-.-.-.-
Hope this is enjoyable so far.
Sorry most of the guilty pleasure scenes are coming next
Reviews appreciated;
:)
I'll post the second part whenever I finish it;
hopefully soon[er than later].